


Golden Boy

by yuletide_archivist



Category: One Tree Hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-08
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Reena</p><p>In which Dan Scott does not do nostalgia or regrets.  Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Samodiva

 

 

 

 

Timeline: Takes place after S1 Ep 4 (Crash Into You). Italicised dialogue taken from the same episode.

(Note: Given the time frame of this fic, I really doubt this will be an issue, but I'd better mention that Season 4 has not yet aired where I live.)

Disclaimer: All rights to OTH belong to Mark Schwann, the CW/WB, etc. No offence intended, no profits being made, and all done in the spirit of good fun.

*****************************************************************************************

_"Do I think Dan and I will get married? Hmm...who knows? I mean..."_

It wasn't at all what Dan had expected to find upon his arrival at the Beach House. No matter what stupidity Nathan and his pals got up to, they usually cleaned up from it very well afterwards. Or, he suspected, paid someone else to do so; going by their performances on the court, hard work wasn`t a concept they were all that familiar with. Either way, he'd walked in assuming he'd find things in perfect order. Which they were, almost. It was just that someone had very stupidly left the TV on, video on pause, and so there they were: him and Karen, their teenaged selves frozen on screen.

Stupidly, he couldn't force himself to look away, plans to get a sandwich and rethink Nathan`s training regime completely forgotten. Then, compelled by some ridiculous, perverse impulse, he found himself sitting down and groping around for the remote control. Even as he hit play, he could feel his lip curling in distaste. Coming as it did on the back of Deb booting him out for the night, the video should have made the list of the Top Ten Things Dan Scott Did Not Want To Deal With. And yet.

Dan had actually very deliberately kept the video over the years, rescuing it from the occasional sorting out and throwing away sessions that had taken place. Of course he'd kept it. It had him being crowned Prom King, after all. It had him, Matt, Aaron and the rest of the guys partying before and after the official gig. It had them all crashing Pickerington's prom, plus a bunch of summer break footage.

It was a slice of perfect nostalgia, sure. But more importantly, it was a bitter reminder that no, life never did get any better than that for him. A reminder that it was for damn sure going to get better than that for his kid. No way he was fucking things up a second time around. No matter how badly Nathan sometimes seemed determined to mess things up. No matter how much Karen's son insisted on interfering

Nathan knew about the video, which probably explained its current center court presence. Of course he knew about it. And the kid might have laughed at the hair and the clothes, but he'd gotten the message, loud and clear.

"Don't get sucked into their small town bullshit, Nathan. There's more to life than high school, whatever Whitey might like you to think."

"Yeah, not likely. Imagine _that_ being the pinnacle of your existence." Nathan, all of fourteen at the time, and for once not even deliberately trying to wound.

Nathan. Christ. What was wrong with the kid? He had the best of everything, and a real shot at a fantastic future, if only he`d put the effort in. More than that, he had the support of a father who would do anything to make sure he reached his full potential. That should have been more than enough for anyone.

But not his kid. First it was stealing a school bus, and now it was his crashing his girlfriend's car. And Lucas, riding to the rescue. With _Keith_ of all people. Jesus. It wasn't even the car, or the alcohol, or Deb's sudden commitment to becoming a saintly paragon of motherhood. It was Karen's son getting involved, the very last thing in the world they needed. And why? Peyton, apparently. He should have known.

Funny, but Peyton had been the first of Nathan's little girlfriends that he'd actually noticed. Before her, there had been a parade of tiny blonde things that came and went with the weather, utterly unworthy of Dan's attention. And then suddenly, it had all gone quiet. The girls had stopped coming by, and Nathan had stopped his relentless bragging. A month, maybe two, of complete silence on the subject. At the time, Dan had actually been deluded enough to imagine his son was finally taking his game as seriously as he should have been doing all along.

Then Nathan, who had never previously asked permission to bring a girl home (or really, to do anything at all) had voluntarily extended his run three mornings in a row, suggested he try lifting some extra weights, and earnestly asked how business was going, before slipping in a request for some privacy that coming Friday "for me and my new girl."

He had gotten a fifteen minute lecture on priorities (namely the importance of eating, sleeping and breathing basketball, not girls) and had had to agree to significantly increase his training, before Dan had grudgingly acquiesced.

Naturally, Dan hadn't really meant it. Nathan had not agreed to up his training because he was so damn motivated to win; he had agreed because he was just that desperate to impress a girl. Nathan's new, nameless little girlfriend had instantly become far more dangerous than any of his previous nameless little girlfriends.

Training that afternoon had been an excruciating exercise in extracting information about this new enemy, but it had actually made Dan feel a lot better about the whole thing. Nathan had informed him that she was a hot, blonde cheerleader who liked music, all of which had been prerequisites for her predecessors, too. It had left Dan with the impression that the only thing that could possibly be any different about this girl was that she was providing decent regular sex.

Crashing their meal that Friday night had done little to alter his opinion. She had been as polite as could be about his interruption (if a little gratifyingly nervous), and though she was indeed young, hot, and blonde, there was nothing about her that made her seem a serious concern. Still less so when the night ended in a screaming row between her and Nathan that only the dead could have failed to overhear. Immediately afterwards, she had thanked him for allowing her to come over and wished him goodnight as though nothing had happened. At the time, he had honestly wondered if he would ever see her again.

His initial impression had been partly right; in many ways, she still _wasn't_ a threat to Nathan's future. Not in the way that Karen had once been to his, all that time ago. Nonetheless, Nathan's relationship with the girl continued to cling to life, and the addition of Lucas to the situation was concerning. Nathan did not need distractions, least of all ones that led to fighting in class and crashing cars.

The damndest thing was, that for reasons he was never entirely clear on, he actually quite liked Peyton. Maybe it was because he had expected another fluffy little cheerleader, and instead, there was a kind of brittle strength to her that he found fascinating. She was clearly a desperately lonely, frequently unhappy young woman. Equally clearly, her reaction to this vulnerability was to attack, attack, attack. To his knowledge, a day never went by without an argument between her and Nathan. He seriously suspected that half-hating each other kept them together as much as the sex they were so ostentatiously having, with all the faux-casualness of teenagers.

Peyton was directionless in a way Dan couldn't ever conceive of being, yet at times, her passion and drive for something more were so evident it was like talking to a completely different person. The one time he made the mistake of asking her about music, he was subjected to a frankly dizzying lecture on the truth and beauty that only music could achieve, complete with what seemed to be an encyclopaedic level of knowledge on the subject. The contrast between what she was and what she could be drew him in despite himself. If she ever actually managed to channel a tenth of that passion into something useful, he was convinced that there would be no end to what she could achieve.

He didn't fool himself that she liked him. Oh, she remained as sweet as pie to Dan's face (whether she was parading about in nothing but a towel or had just finished screaming blue murder at his son). She called him Mr Scott, asked after Deb, had even sent him a birthday card. And, he suspected, privately disliked him quite intensely. If he'd been a better man, it might have bothered him. As it was, he found it added to his enjoyment of her.

It wasn't sexual, exactly, but it wasn't entirely not, either. Dan genuinely found her interesting without that aspect of it. And he would never want to act on it, was the thing. He might be able to persuade her, if he worked hard enough at it, caught her at the right moment. And it might even be a fun challenge, her dislike of him adding spice to the idea. But the reality of it would be different to the fantasy: her moodiness would become exhausting rather than charming, her lack of drive aggravating rather than intriguing, her loneliness claustrophobic. And there was always the threat of exposure. His reputation and livelihood, Nathan's future, and his marriage to Deb, all risked for a vague fantasy? No. Weaker, lesser men, he thought, might have been seriously tempted; he was not. Not even now, late at night, with his cock hardening at the thought of it.

Still, he brushed his hand across his pants once, allowed himself a moment to picture her perfect, porcelain complexion, her wide eyes and glossy blonde curls. Funny, how even in his imagination she was frowning slightly, the tense line of her back drawing his eye nearly as much as the curve of her breasts. Even her lips were more pursed than pouty. The vision lingered, and he found his hand straying back to his dick, then moved it away again. Some things were not worth pursuing, not even alone in the dark.

That conversation about music, though. Strange, how just for an instant she had reminded him of Karen. He didn't even know why, now. Frowning at the TV, he hit the stop button. Stupid to think about that now. Time for a shower, a glass of scotch, and then bed. He'd get up early tomorrow to meet Nathan for their usual run, and then buy breakfast, make peace with Deb.

****************************************************************************************

Sleep did not come. Dan demanded control over his mind and body; had done so ruthlessly throughout his life. Rarely had it let him down. But when it did, there were options. Such as more scotch. And he truly, hand on heart, would have sworn that it was the promise of more scotch that drew him back downstairs. Didn't he pour a glass before he sat on the couch? Wasn't that proof enough?

But drinking alone was usually accompanied by the re-watch of a game, pulling apart the tactics and performances from beginning to end. There were no games at the Beach House; Deb's rule. No games, just a lot of very old home videos. And if he wanted to take another look at the one that was already in the VCR, what did it matter? What had that particular video ever been but a symbol of embarrassing failure used to motivate him? And didn't he need that reminder tonight, with Deb's recriminations echoing in his ears? Didn't he need that fresh in his head for when he spoke to Nathan in the morning, to reassure the kid about what they had to achieve together?

_"...get married? Hmm...who knows? I mean...he really is the sweetest guy in the whole world."_

They had been so young, and so different. Karen, especially. Too often, when he thought of her it was of how she'd been at the end. Crying, hurt, angry. Half hating him, but still desperately begging him to reconsider. Or afterwards, shutting him down coldly, telling him to stay the hell away.

But there had been a brief time when he'd foolishly believed she had fit the picture. When her belief in his ability to do anything had spurred him on, and she'd been the only thing in the world that could distract him from his game, his future. She had been so young, so full of energy, and so good, in a way that even now was slightly mystifying to him. Keith, for instance, was in general a good guy, but he had his faults; he was petty, he drank too much. He held grudges, and he never did try as hard as he could have done at anything. Not even at making a play for Karen, as far as Dan could see. But still and all, that sort of goodness, slightly tarnished as it was with a certain amount of mediocrity and failure, that Dan understood.

But Karen, back then, there had been something about. Some sort of pure inner goodness that he really couldn't define or explain. And because he couldn't, he couldn't find a way of qualifying it, either. Oh, he could do it with her as she was now; could criticise any number of her more recent choices and reactions, up to and including her ongoing bitterness towards him. But it meant that despite himself, when he was really forced to remember her properly, there was still, hidden deep, a part of Karen that Dan couldn't force himself to dislike. A part that he found he admired a good deal.

His eyes flicked back to the TV. Karen, talking dreamily about the future. Their future. He remembered her ideas at the time, how under cheap bed covers, sweat still drying on their skin, they'd planned and fantasized. Crazy, how he could almost smell her old perfume (some cheap, drugstore thing that he'd loved at the time) and the scent of her body as she'd rested her head on his shoulder, time after time. She had been determined to do well in school, surprise them all, not just be another stereotypical cheerleader. Do well at college, maybe have her own little business - a boutique or something. Do well at that, then become a mom. Have lots of kids, fill the house with them. Maybe still work part time or something, but the house full of kids, that she`d been set on. The insane thing was, he hadn't hated the idea. Oh, he'd been sure it would have to happen a hell of a long way down the line, but even then, even just a kid himself, it hadn't seemed that bad a dream. More than once, he'd found his hand circling lazily in the drying sweat on her stomach as, half asleep, she'd murmured happily to him about it. She was going to be someone she was proud of, be someone that he would be proud of too, and he was going to do the same for her. They`d succeed together, live the American dream. And they were going to stay together through all of it.

And then, of course, she actually had fallen pregnant, and that had been the end of all that.

Not for her, though. Not entirely. Her café wasn't exactly a dream business, but she'd still made it work all by herself, with her own money. Made a success of that stupid little venture. And Lucas was...Lucas. An inconvenience, a threat to everything Dan held dear, someone who would never have existed if Dan had had his choice. But for all of that, he'd turned out all right, hadn't he? He was an okay sort of kid. Who did well, from what the local and school newspapers told him. He would never say it, never even think it, normally, but...maybe the kid even had a sort of stubborn, determined streak about him that Dan found reminded him of himself...and maybe something of Karen's decency, too. But those were not things to be thought of. He had his box of cuttings and photos locked safely away at the showroom, and that was enough. More than enough, more than he should ever have allowed himself. It wasn't as if he actually needed it. Not often.

Abruptly, Dan realised he was staring at a fuzzy screen, the video having run out. Without giving himself time to reconsider it, he hit rewind, got ready to cue it back up one last time. After all, indulging in some foolish sense of nostalgia hadn't been the point of the exercise, had it? Above the TV hung a picture of himself, Deb and Nathan, so he focused on that while he waited. _They_ were the present and the future, and the video nothing but a reminder of why it was so important for him to keep his (and Nathan's) eye on the ball.

It was a good photo, professionally done. Taken for their fifteenth anniversary. He remembered that afternoon, remembered the sense of things being as they should be, of his plans being right on track. Nathan had had a great game the previous night, had played better than he'd ever done before. Deb's career had been going great guns, and even the showroom had been doing well. It had been a good day, a good year.

Sometimes he forgot a little, the impact dulled and faded, but meeting Deb had been fantastic. She had been smart and together and _fantastic_. Rich, beautiful, classy, confident. She had been educated and brilliant, and she was going to change the world. She had been everything he'd needed, away from the claustrophobia of Tree Hill and the weight of Karen's expectations, of his parent's expectations. Even of his own expectations. Deb had demanded nothing of him except the pleasure of his company. She hadn't cared about basketball or whether he came from the right sort of family or not, hadn't cared about his grades or what his life plan had been since almost before he could walk.

She had been easy to love, and even now, in some ways he thought she still was. Now, of course, it was for a lot of different reasons, not the least being that Deb had turned out to be a manipulative bitch. Dan loved and hated that about her, and knew it didn't negate the other parts of her personality, but it was true. He knew that it was, in fact, a big part of why they had gotten married in the first place, and why they had managed to last so long. She had probably lied to him about being pregnant in order to keep him, and it had worked. She had probably cared less about the future he wanted than about tying him to her, and by using her family's money to buy him a business, that had worked, too. But even though he partly blamed her for how his life had turned out, he couldn't dislike her for it. She went after what she wanted, and she got it; always had done. He could appreciate that. Could even appreciate that, faced with the disappointment of not actually liking what she'd gotten, she really had gone out to try and save the world with her charity work.

Now she was feeling guilty, so her normal routine of "Anywhere But Here" had abruptly changed into her preaching the importance of them being a sharing, caring kind of family. Funny, how that had included kicking him out for the night.

But in the end, they worked, him and Deb. Worked in a way that he and Karen never would have done, half-formed day dreams and reminiscences aside. And wasn't everyone allowed the odd bit of nostalgia, every once in a while? As long as you were wise enough to know that the past was past. As long as you weren't one of those weaker men, chasing old dreams or younger bodies. Dan checked his watch. 4.26am. He took one more look at the TV, then hit standby. If he started heading home now, he could get Nathan up, take him for a run before Deb was even awake. Then they could cook breakfast together, impress her properly. It would be like the previous day had never happened, and soon, things would be back to normal.

In time, Deb would go back to her charity business trips, and he and Nathan would continue to plan for the future, would work hard and make things happen. That was just the way things were, and he wasn't about to allow anyone to change that. Not for anything.

_"...Come visit us in 10 years, and I bet you can meet the kids and get a tour of our big house and see how happy we are."_

 

 

 


End file.
